Left Assistant Minister Lu Kang!
To be precise: the *former*Left Assistant Minister.
This fellow was the power behind Zhou Pan.
Li Yan and even Zhang Shitong had suggested they eliminate the old man. As one of the great embezzlers of Guanzhong, he had a straight-laced, pious appearance—but behind it were countless hidden hands, nearly deceiving them all.
Noticing their strange expressions, Lu Kang mistook surprise over his rank for hesitation. He smiled and waved it off. "No need to mind—a retired man returned to the countryside, no longer Zuo Canzheng."
"Oh, my apologies."
Li Yan and the others exchanged glances and slipped back into the inn.
Lu Kang watched them go, genuinely puzzled by their reaction.
Beside him, his middle-aged attendant Feng Ping whispered, "Master, these are rough travelers—uncouth folk who won't show the usual respect. No need to take it personally."
Lu Kang looked up at the clearing sky and nodded. "Looks like the storm is lifting. We'll set out now. At Zhongnan Mountain's official relay station, we'll rest—and my wife and daughter can offer incense atop the mountain."
"Yes, sir."
With that, Feng Ping bowed and organized the retinue. Soon enough, they departed the old abode.
"Pfft!"
Once they were gone, Sha Lafei snorted. "That old codger—still playing the lord even in retirement. Disgusting!"
Wang Daoxuan chuckled and shook his head. "His forehead's full, his lower face strong, steady eyes—looks every bit a benign, generous official. Who could've expected such a hypocrite?"
"Never judge by appearances…"
They had gathered intel on Guanzhong bandit Zhou Pan, and Lu Kang had clearly been one of his chief protectors—his wealth and cunning instrumental in Zhou Pan's rise.
The ex-official was from humble origins but had climbed high, amassing a fortune and becoming the wealthiest family in Shangluo—all while escaping blame. Had luck favored him, he'd have been governor of Shanzhou.
Sha Lafei's eyes glittered with excitement. "That's one fat target right there! Kill him, win gold, and a reputation as righteous heroes. The Greenwoods would flock to us…"
"Let's keep our distance—no need to spill our own blood."
Li Yan grinned. "Makes sense. We'll draw attention, clear Niubeiliang Mountain, then swiftly move on to Fengyang."
"Let's wait two more hours before we move."
Now with a plan, the group could afford patience.
By the hour of Si, the rain ceased completely and they pressed on.
Down the slopes and around a few curves, the old Qin–Chu Road grew treacherous: fractured bluestone, mud-filled pits, slippery inclines. Their horses stumbled, and the coffin-bearers truly earned their pay.
Shouldering heavy wooden poles and ropes, they alternately pushed and steadied the cart. Even at the worst stretches, the coffin remained steadfast.
"Well done!" Li Yan exclaimed.
Wang Daoxuan laughed: "As they say, of funerals, eight parts carried on poles. These bearers from the capital are strongest—some seventy-two men carry a single dragonwood bier, bowl of water atop, and not a drop spills, even through ravines!"
"That's at what they call the Auspicious Place."
Chief bearer Yue Bala-in smiled shyly. "Their skill far surpasses ours. They have divisions: spotters, flag-wielders, forerunners, porters—and even Daoist disciples guiding them. Ten years ago during the Northern drought, the Yellow River dried. A buried stone-dragon coffin emerged, bringing omens and death. These bearers joined the Tai Xuan Sect to transfer it to Wangwu Mountain."
Wang Daoxuan's interest peaked. "Indeed, I've heard whispers. Few admit knowledge. Do you know more, Brother Yue?"
Yue Bala-in shook his head. "I'm merely a common man. I know superstitions—but when push comes to shove, what can I do?"
He sighed: "We do this only to eat. Worshipping the god of the poor—it's no great calling."
Wang Daoxuan nodded and changed the subject. "By the way, have you heard of the Medicine King?"
He began: "He dwelled in Zhongnan Mountain. One night, an old man appeared—claiming to be the dragon of the Kunming Pool in Chang'an. Months of drought and a sorcerer at the pool seeking rain had provoked dragon anger. The sorcerer planned to kill the dragon and refine its brain for medicine. The Medicine King said: 'It's easy to save you—but beneath Kunming Pool lies the Dragon Palace. It contains three thousand celestial prescriptions. Let me study them and I'll deliver you from your plight.'
"The dragon hesitated, citing heaven's decree. The Medicine King pressed, and as soon as the dragon relented, Kunming Pool's waters surged, engulfing the sorcerer who died of shock. Among the texts found was the famed *Thousand-Gold Prescriptions*, which saved countless lives."
Sha Lafei exclaimed, "That was the Medicine King subduing the dragon!"
Li Yan mused: "I heard this story in childhood. But now it sounds odd. A dragon hiding under Kunming Pool? That'd set all the Daoist sects ablaze. And that sorcerer—he was concealing something, using the guise of drought."
"Possible," Wang Daoxuan replied. "Chang'an was once the world's center, attracting magicians from the West and South Seas. Perhaps there's more to the tale than legend.
"But I mention this because we'll pass Zhongnan Mountain. We can't climb to pray at the peak, but at the foot lies a Medicine King temple, bustling with faithful. We should honor him with three incense sticks."
Li Yan nodded. "Right. The Medicine King's benevolence is boundless."
Old horse-handler Meng, having led the horse down a steep stretch, paused and said quietly, "My grandson has been dim-witted since birth. I'll pray for him, too."
With purpose renewed, their steps grew stronger.
By Shen hour, they reached Zhongnan Mountain's base.
The terrain stretched wide, cliffs and dense woods shrouded in clouds and mist. Winding mountain paths vanished into fog.
Here, the pilgrim traffic had surged—pilgrims from all over, travelers weary from long distances, preparing to rest before proceeding deeper.
The ancient Qinling roads served north–south corridors with checkpoints, relay stations, hostels, and shops. A relay stand at Zhongnan offered a small teahouse, inns, and incense sellers—crowded with people.
Li Yan felt deeply moved. He had visited in a past life, but now—blessed with spiritual insight—he experienced it anew.
Wang Daoxuan once told him: great sacred mountains connect earth's veins with sun, moon, and stars—gathering cosmic energy to form a 'formation'. Zhongnan isn't a single peak, but part of the mid-Qinling, with major peaks like Taibai Mountain and Cuihua Mountain—designated sacred caves.
Though they were not yet at the core, the place still hummed with clear, majestic energy—like an ancient giant standing tall.
Wang Daoxuan chuckled: "You picked up on it because of your spiritual nose. I sensed it on a ritual platform before—but seeing this vast world is blessing enough to travel."
Li Yan smiled and nodded, yearning already for the sacred caves ahead.
Their funeral procession found no welcome here—not even in the inns or tea houses. They left their cart hidden in the woods and stood before the Medicine King temple for incense—then would continue on their journey.
Otherwise, they'd end up sleeping outdoors anyway, rain or no.
"Look, Yan'er!" Sha Lafei pointed.
They saw the imperial relay station—they had arrived just outside the gate.
Relay stations were essential state facilities—from major to minor. Large ones functioned like small towns: stations, officials' residences, armories, stables, storehouses, staff quarters, even defensive walls. Zhongnan was modest by comparison, but well-equipped—and they could hear horses whinnying beyond the courtyard walls.
And there, leaving through the front gate: Lu Kang, his family, and their retinue.
Li Yan paused, then quietly said, "We misjudged—if we knew they would come this far, there'd be no reason to wait two hours."
Time had passed. They fell into step with Wang Daoxuan.
"They're heading deeper into the mountain."
Wang Daoxuan observed Lu Kang's path and shook his head. "Climbing from here to the summit takes at least two days. Seems Lu Kang isn't in any rush after all."
"Let's go. This is our way to the Medicine King Temple."
Not far up the mountain path, nestled in a mountain hollow, stood the temple—large enough and beautifully secluded. Devotees, silent and solemn, drifted past.
One young man knelt before the altar, tears in his eyes: "Medicine King, my mother has been bedridden and wasting away—please restore her health soon…"
Several others offered similar prayers.
Old Meng's eyes glistened as he knelt to light incense, bowing in earnest reverence.
Moved, Li Yan felt a deep sense of awe.
Frankly, he didn't know if incense actually cured disease. But those who channeled spiritual energy to protect a region—who stood as divine guardians—were worthy of reverence. Life and death were reality; no incense can guarantee healing. Yet it could soothe hearts.
Medicine King had saved countless lives—and even a reverent tribute carries its weight.
So, he accepted three sticks of incense, lit them, and placed them respectfully in the censer. He gazed at the statue: white-browed, kindly, holding a staff and gourd—looking down on the world with compassion.
A finely crafted statue, the handiwork of Daoist artisans, who imbued it with age through ritual and then used the incense offerings to build up spiritual power. Inferior statues attract little faith.
Li Yan, impressed in silence, prepared to kneel…
But at that moment, the *Gou Die* mark on his left hand blazed hot. His vision swam—light dimmed around him.
The wooden altar disintegrated instantly, vanishing into dust. In its place stood an ancient stone platform.
Upon it sat an old man dressed like the Medicine King—aside from his true face: mottled yellow hair, fanged mouth, fierce gaze, a large "WANG" character emblazoned on his forehead.
*(End of Chapter)*